Innocence is the Art of Lying
by TehKosherBoi
Summary: For once, Kyle doesn't hate Kenny for being such a manipulative little bastard. KennyxStan, KylexStan silly smut XD


Author note:

My first attempt at South Park fanfic, really :3

And oh, English isn't my first language, so pardon any mistake until I find a nice beta!

Now, off to the fic!

*insert epic drum rolls here*

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Uh oh.

This is not good.

Stan gulped nervously as the weight of Kenny's stare pinned him down. Kenny's face was contorted in a manic grin that belonged to an oversized Cheshire cat, his white teeth showing far too unhealthy for Stan's liking. It's his fault, really—it's been a long-established rule that no one should ever, ever take their clothes off in front of Kenny, girls or boys. Everyone knew even a rabbit overdosed on Viagra wouldn't beat Kenny when it came to perversity. He's awesome like that.

"Uh, Kenny?" Stan was surprised that his vocal cord still functioned, though his voice sounded much more pussy-ish than he intended to, "…what are you looking at?"

If it's even possible, Kenny's grin grew wider. He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the little pink tongue sweeping quickly on Stan's plush bottom lip, a habit the raven-haired boy developed when he's facing an awkward situation. Replacing his perverted grin with a saccharine sweet smile, he whispered, "Stan, you're my buddy, yes?"

"Ah. Kinda. I mean, uh, of course…"

"Do you love me?"

The simple question kicked Stan's ass to the verge of freaking out, "NO! Uhm, I mean, no. I'm not gay, Kenny! What the fuck?"

Laughter ran past Kenny's lips. Ah, this cute little Marsh boy. Always so predictable.

"Not like that, Stanley… I mean, friends love each other, right?" he explained, soon after his giggle subdued, "Remember what the good old saying? Love is the deep-seated essential in every friendship. You can't make friend unless you learn to love them."

Stan muttered a 'yes', but deep inside, he's not really sure what he should say. Kenny sounded so… insightful. Which was pretty rare for a Kenny McCormick. Very. But hey, he shouldn't think bad about his own friend! Kenny was probably just trying to get some acceptance from him. That kid's got a tough live, with his crappy home and crappy parents and crappy everything. He didn't need Stan to make him feel worse. Kenny deserved a little love.

A touch of warm skin against his shoulder snapped Stan from his mental monologue. Casting his eyes up to meet a set of gleaming blue orbs, he whispered, "Kenny?"

"Do you?"

Stan didn't know whether he should start throwing up on Kenny to shoo him away or just simply nod. He chose the latter option.

And instantly regretted it as Kenny's sincere smile distorted into a creepy grin. Again.

The hands on Stan's shoulder slid down on his upper torso until they rested on his trimmed waist. Stan knew this was the moment where he should expel his stomach out on Kenny's chest, but much to his disappointment, his stomach decided to refuse. So he just stood there, pinned between a hard wall and Kenny's warm, lean, _naked_ body, hands limped uselessly on both sides.

"…Kenny? The fuck, dude?"

Kenny just let out a huff and leaned down, his lips were just mere inches from Stan's pulsating veins planted deep underneath the smooth skin of his long neck. The slightly tanned boy felt a shiver running down his spine as warm, damp air tickled the sensitive skin below his ear.

This is totally not good. Absolutely.

"Really? You do?" using his sugary voice again, Kenny murmured, his lips making an accidental brush on Stan's skin in the process, "But how? You've never showed me. You weren't even there when I died that day…"

It's like getting a punch square on the nose. Only it's not a punch. Just a pang of guilt that, somehow, made Stan forgot his bewilderment of having Kenny feeling him up for a while. He knew eight years had passed since that day, but until now, it's still a sensitive topic to him. Stanley Marsh, a guy known for being nice to even a kitten with rabies, was out of nowhere when one of his close friends dying… Stop it, Stan! Crying like an angsty emofag wouldn't make things better!

"I'm sorry, Kenny… I was… I was such a pussy… I was too scared to see you dying… I—"

Kenny sighed, his hands now travelled below to grip Stan's hips. "It's okay, Stan… I forgive you. And it's not like I died for eternity, anyway…" he spoke, so softly, like he's afraid the walls would eavesdropped their conversation, "…I'm still here. Alive."

Feeling slightly comforted, Stan relaxed in the boy's embrace. He didn't notice his own hands were circling Kenny's shoulder, pulling him closer. "Awww… Thanks dude."

"No probs, Stan. But you still have to prove me you still love me, though…"

"Huh. How? Uh, I can go get you some lunch, man. Or maybe you'd like pizza and—"

Before he could finish his awkward rambling, a pair of warm lips seized his own in a rough, desperate kiss. Freaked out, Stan squirmed to get away, but Kenny's lanky form was surprisingly strong against his more developed one. He opened his mouth to say something, or maybe scream his brain out, but Kenny was a trained opportunist—swiftly, he shoved his tongue down the black haired teen's mouth, earning a staggered gasp from him. His hands were busy running up and down the boy's backside, like he wanted to remember every curve, every contour, to help him making a mental map of Stan's slender body. Stan was the first to break the kiss as oxygen left his lungs, his bottom lip swollen from where Kenny bit it. Still panting, he pushed the blond with all the strength he could muster, "Dude! What the hell was that?!"

Kenny, playing as the sweet, innocent little Kenny, just looked at him with wide, naive eyes, "That's a kiss, you prude bitch."

"I know! My question is, WHY did you kiss me?!"

"You asked how to prove your love…"

"I did! But—"

"But what?"

Stan's voice getting thicker and thicker by each word, "But you're just my friend, you bastard! And you're a guy! Gross, dude!"

Kenny just shrugged, "But that's the way. You show someone you love them… by making love."

"WHAT?!"

"Friendship is much more important than girlfriends, Stan. Everyone knows that. If you'd kissed your Wendy, why won't you give me one? Emotional bond is crucial, but to take a step further, we have to engage in a physical intercourse too… Words aren't enough to prove it, Stan… You need to show me by allowing me getting closer to you…."

Ah. Why did he feel bad every time Kenny talked with that sincere, sweet voice?

In the middle of his confusion, Stan's brain cells started to leave his head, the complete maneuver of his body was now centered on his stupid emotional sense and, uhm, his groin. His stirring groin. He never knew Kenny's eyes were so blue… and clear… like melted sapphire or something… oh fuck, did he just implied that he, Mr. Jock, thought a guy was HOT?

"I just want your acceptance, Stan… Let me get closer to you."

And so he did.

He let Kenny's hand pulled the hem of his black boxers down his hips, while his own were still too reluctant to rest on anywhere but Kenny's shoulder. For a mere second, he thought he caught a glimpse of that pervy grin again on Kenny's handsome face, but he wasn't really sure—the skilled hands dancing on the skin just below his navel preoccupied his mind. He let out a strangled scream as Kenny's fingers encircled his hardening cock.

"Sssshhh… you don't want us to get caught, right, dude?"

Shit. They're still in the school gym shower. Better not being a screamer than getting caught butt-naked with another guy. Stan still had pride to save. And a girlfriend. Or no.

Stan bit his lips hard to block a yelp when the McCormick boy leaned on his chest and gently nipped on his perky nipples. The grip on Kenny's shoulder was tightened, his whole body arched into the boy's mouth and hands, trying to get more skin-to-skin contact. Kenny was still assaulting Stan's nipples when the other hands slipped down his torso until they stopped on his boxers, nervously trying to rip the annoying piece of clothes off.

"K… Kenny…" he moaned, "Your boxers… Can I?"

"You don't have to ask, baby."

If his mind wasn't too sex-dazed, Stan would probably pummel him into pink gooey for calling him 'baby'. But right now, he didn't care. He had a more important task to do. Gingerly, he undressed the boy in front of him, his boxers pooled around his ankles with a rustling sound. Being a newbie to man-on-man sex, Stan could only imitate what Kenny was doing. He enclosed Kenny's raging hard-on in his clumsy fingers, hoping he could return the favor and prove his love for Kenny. As a friend. Don't forget that. As a friend.

What Stan did should have been good, because it's now Kenny's turn to gasp breathlessly. Stan couldn't believe this. He had a guy's cock in his hand. A big, throbbing one. And he had his bubble butt groped by that guy in question. Scratch that—he's not just 'a guy'. He's Kenny McCormick, one of his best buddies in this little South Park town. One of whom he loved so much… as a friend.

"Ahh… AH!"

The sensation of having a curious finger slipped on the cleft of his ass pressed the warning button on Stan's head. He's not sure if he'd go that far… not with a guy… not in school shower… not up the butt!

"Kenny… no! Uuuhh, don't!"

Oh damn. He never hit that pitch since puberty. He sounded like a total pussy. Shit.

"Let me get closer to you, Stan…"

And, like a mantra, Stan's defense weakened. He just stared at Kenny's innocent eyes with his round, wide, confused ones.

"I'd like to give you warm-ups and blow jobs, but we don't have enough time," Kenny convinced him, voice still laced with sugar, "But I promise you'll enjoy it. Okay, Stan?"

"I'm not sure, dude—AH!!" Stan stopped middle sentence once Kenny continued his ministration. With his right hand, the blond jacked him off, while his left one busy coaxing the little pink rosebud to open. Stan had forgot about his job to stroke hid friend's cock, both of his hands desperately clang on Kenny's sharp hipbones to prevent him from sliding down the wall. His whole bones seemed to be constructed from Jell-O, all wobbly and weak.

Again, a mufled scream filled the school shower as a finger slipped in Stan's most private entrance. It didn't hurt, but kinda weird—the feeling was very… alien to him. Stan was very conservative when it came to sex and he never, ever paid attention to any other body part but his cock—not his nipples, and certainly, not his asshole. It's just weird.

But who says weird is a bad thing?

Another finger tried to force an entry, and it's just too impossible to keep silent. He didn't have any chance to protest, though—before he knew, the third finger joined, slowly moving in and out of him. It's when those fingers stroked something inside of him that Stan broke into a cry, a not-so-masculine cry, and like a puppet on a string, his body moved on its own accord that was Kenny's fingers, arched and squirmed so frantically.

Feeling the muscles around him had relaxed, Kenny pulled his fingers out, emitting a grunt of protest from the other boy. Quickly, he picked his discarded boxers and pulled a little jar from the pocket. Yeah, Kenny was a good boy, who practiced the good old saying, "Get an umbrella before it starts raining," in his daily life. And since banging the hell out of people was a part of his daily life, keeping a jar of lubricant in his pocket was indispensable. In a swift motion, he applied a good amount of that thick, clear liquid on his cock and Stan's waiting hole, and once he's done, without wasting any second, he pulled the raven haired boy's hips up and positioned himself just below his entrance.

"Ready, Stan?"

Nodding weakly, Stan allowed a small smile to creep on his face. The smile, however, twisted into a perfect 'O' as the tip of Kenny's engorged cock bumped his asshole. Slowly but surely, the blond added more and more pressure until the head was fully enveloped by the clenching passage. Whoah, Kenny knew that boy would be so damn tight, but this was… incredible. Stan's should have played as a tight-end than instead of a quarterback. Heh.

Kenny never took his eyes off of Stan's face during the penetration. The way his cheeks stained pink, the way those translucent droplets of sweat making wet trails from his forehead to his chin, the way he bit his already red, swollen lips to block any scream—Kenny never failed to notice. Once he's fully seated in that irresistible body, he emitted a low moan of pleasure.

"Hurt?" he asked.

Stan shook his head weakly. Which was a blatant lie. Kenny's cock was much larger than three fingers, and even though they'd used loads of lubricant, pain still radiated from his lower region. Kenny, of course, was too smart to buy it. To distract him from the throbbing ache, he leaned down and licked a trace of sweat rolling down Stan's neck, before gently nipping on the soft expanse of skin. Stan's gasp was enough for approval. He made his way to Stan's collarbone, sucking and biting and nipping, making sure to leave nice hickeys there and there.

The tenseness of Stan's inner muscles began to fade and Kenny started move, each thrust was aimed to the little bundle of nerves that sent sparks trough the raven haired boy's body. Discomfort and pain now were gradually substituted by escalating, toe-curling pleasure. It didn't take long for Stan to play along, moving his body up and down to the rhythm Kenny created. His cock was trapped between his and Kenny's sweaty body, ignored—he wanted to urge Kenny to pay attention to Little Stan too, but words couldn't be formed since Kenny's thrust knocked breath out of his lungs. All he could do was smashing their hips together, hoping Kenny would take it as a silent request. Kenny caught the signal and promptly enveloped Stan's cock in his right hand. Breath hitched, Stan rocked his body harder. He had never considered himself as a greedy boy until he realized how much he wanted Kenny on him, in him—wherever, as long as their skin collided.

"A-aahhh… Kenny…" the stimulation on both his prostate and cock was too much for Stan. He couldn't last any longer. Feeling the cock in his hand ready to burst, Kenny slammed in deeper and harder, while at the same time giving the boy one final stroke. Orgasm rippled through Stan's body like an earthquake, thick, white liquid was splattered across Kenny and his own stomach. The delicious spasming of Stan's inner muscles around his cock was enough to drive the blond to his own climax. With a stifled moan, Kenny spilled his seed deep inside of Stan. They remained in that position for a few minutes, trying to catch their breath. Reluctantly Kenny pulled his spent cock out, and Stan could feel the other's come dribbled out of his hole. Damn. If he were a girl, Stan was damn sure he would have morning sick on the very next week.

Still panting, Stan asked, "So, dude… was that enough to prove?"

Kenny just grinned, mostly to himself and his awesome silver tongue. Oh yes. That's more than enough, Stanley Marsh.

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Kyle was mad. Really, really mad. His face was distorted into an ugly scowl, arms folded defiantly in front of his chest. It's been the fourth time Stan broke his own promise to spend weekend together, and no, he's not going to take this easy. Not again. That's why he just glowered when his Super Best Friend entered his room that day, not answering the precursory "Hey dude, what's up your ass?"

When the redhead fully ignored him and set himself in front of his computer to play some lame Solitaire games, Stan finally knew he had done something wrong.

"What did I do that you're so friggin angry to me?" he asked, standing right next to the glaring little kosher boy.

Kyle just pouted even more. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Stan's eyebrows furrowed into a frown. Huh. For an ex-emo boy—or probably, still one—Stan was sure lack of sensitivity. Lots of it.

He didn't expect the black haired teen to bend down and crashed their lips together.

Like, really.

"Shit, Stan! What the hell?!" Kyle screeched, pushing the boy off of him. He instantly regretted it when Stan looked at him with those wide blue eyes, hurt and confusion clearly reflected on them. No matter how mad he was, he still hated it when Stan's hurting. He's his Super Best Friend, anyway.

"I don't know what my mistake is, but forgive me! You're my best buddy, dude; I don't wanna lose you."

Kyle hissed, "Then, kissing me like a half-dollar whore like that would help me forgive you? Sick, Stan!

"But I want to show you I still love you," Stan explained, and quickly added, "as a friend."

"…what?"

"Kenny said, 'show someone you love them… by making love',"

For a second, Kyle stared at his friend, eyes bugged out of his head like he's witnessing an alien covered in orange mucus passing down the street. How could Stan believe the shit Kenny shoved up his ass? Maybe he gave the boy's brain more credit than it deserved…

…Ah.

Whatever.

Maybe he should better play along.

So, when Stan captured his lips in a smothering kiss again, he just slid his hands under the boy's shirt and thanked Kenny for being such a manipulative little bastard.

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Okay! Crappy, I know. And I suck at pron, so don't bother bitching about it. But yeah—I still hope you guys like it…

Anyway, gimme review and I'll be your sex slave!

…What? Gross, you say?

Fine. Review and I'll give you virtual cookies. Go! XD


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